a banjo and a mattress
David's home!
David and I find our home these days to be bigger than a Volvo but smaller than most sane couples would choose to attempt. Our space somehow sucks in the near ocean breeze despite its east-facing orientation, and when David accepts my schoolwork papers that seem to scatter themselves rudely across my side, we have more room than we need.
Our kitchen area makes us tango if we both wish to make a culinary contribution, but our wobbly microwave, double burner, and slightly-larger-than-mini-fridge call for fewer cooking perils than we’re accustomed to (Dinnertime in the Volv often involved searing the car rooftop and, on more than one occasion, had us nearly burning down local parks or New Mexican forest).
Minimalists that we are, my newly acquired banjo and his five closest musical instrument friends also grace our space. (Sorry, neighbors. Hope you like bluegrass.)
We threw a mattress in here just for kicks. Here we go now, with the surfing and kiting and poolside guarding and projects and banjo and summer.
Same kids, new Volv
